


Oh, good. I didn't die.

by notsafefortheworld



Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:10:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9191420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafefortheworld/pseuds/notsafefortheworld
Summary: You're careful.Not careful enough, apparently.





	

You aren't really one for hiking - in fact, exercise itself is something of an anathema for you, besides maybe dancing. But...well. The mountain is going to be closed soon, because a kid went missing.  
Now. Normally, that'd mean you would stay the  _hell_ away, but. You like to think you're a pretty cautious person - just because some _kid_ went missing (just because a lot of them did), doesn't mean _you_ will. You're not reckless. Just maybe kind of morbidly curious. It's not like you're going to find anything search parties didn't, either, but - hell, the mountain is getting _closed down_. It would feel like a missed opportunity, and - if you're being honest with yourself - for some reason this _interests_ you more than, well.  
More than much of anything that's been happening, or will happen. That's depression for you. Still. This mountain has apparently been swallowing kids since before you were born - you'd suspect some sort of organization, maybe, just because of _how many_ have gone missing. Not two or three or four - _seven_. Eight, now. And they've _never been found_.   
Other people have been lost, of course - but, eventually, their bodies were found, or they stumbled their way out of the woods. These children were never seen again, and it seems the latest one -Francesca Moritz, according to the 'distraught' mother (you don't like the feeling you got off of her, even through just watching the news report - you'd be willing to bet she's not someone you'd like to know) will probably follow that trend.  
You're somewhat surprised, though, that the town is actually _shutting it down_. Eight kids over....well, you haven't checked the facts, but at least over a century? Strange, certainly, but not _public menace_ level, you'd think. Especially given that the mountain is, you're fairly sure, a tourist attraction - it has _loads_ of trails, and. You don't know. Whatever makes people like mountains that they can climb. Rocks.  
It probably has loads of rocks.  
For the town to take this seriously enough to lose out on revenue - there's probably another reason. Can they be held liable for that sort of thing? (Probably.) It is a beach town too, though, so maybe it's not _too_ bad a loss.  
Really, though - you wouldn't be hiking up this mountain, except. You kind of feel...a _pull_. You haven't had one of those in a while, and as fun as it is to wait until you almost _can't_ do whatever it is, this one is strong enough that you kind of had to.  
Well, no. You didn't _have_ to. But you're curious about whether this will pan out to something, or...not. Admittedly, you're hoping for the former, but if not, at least it gets you out of the house.  
Hopefully you won't run into too many people.  
Hopefully. You try not to think too much about it.  
Either way, really. It's close enough for you to walk (it _is_ a small town, and you're already going to be exercising; why not walk there? It'll be a warmup, instead of starting off at a slant.), so you will, after checking off your mental list.  
Meds? Taken. You ate breakfast. Well, brunch. You rarely get up before nine o'clock. Bag? You were somewhat indecisive of which to bring - comfort is important, but so is which one you like the most at the moment. You bring an old favorite that hopefully won't be tedious to carry up a mountain. Backpacks are too movement-restricting - you don't like them.  
Water? Three bottles. You'll probably get hungry, so you throw in a few granola bars, and, for good measure, an apple. Pocket knife, because why not - that's a thing you bring on hikes, right? For cutting rope and stuff?   
Eh, whatever. It could be useful. (You have a tendency to overpack, alright?) It's kind of heavy, for a knife - it has a nice heft, which is part of what you like about it. That, and it's skull-patterned. _Everything_ is better with skulls. (Maybe not _everything_  - and it would definitely depend on the pattern. But, as a general principle, it works.)   
Water, knife, food - what are you forgetting? Water....you don't need a sweater, do you?  
Oh, to hell with it. It's _fall_ already -  you might as well. You can just stuff it in your bag. Not the leather one, then - it's heavy to carry. You'll bring the fuzzy one instead.  
Okay. That's that. You don't need a map - phone? Hmm.  
Yeah, probably. Just in case you get stuck in a ditch or twist your ankle (a fate you have not yet suffered, but why tempt the gods?) Mnnnnn. It's only got 32% battery life. Should you wait for it to charge...?  
Nah. You power it off - if you need it, you'll have it, but your family knows where you're going. You told them yesterday (oddly, the desire hasn't waned, like you expected it to - they usually do. You have a hunch this is going to be an interesting one, if only for that reason.)   
Phone...Batteries...hmmmm. Why does it feel like you're still forgetting something? (It feels like you're embarking on a journey. Then again, that's not too uncommon of a feeling when you leave the house.)  
Hmmmmn. Notebook. You'll bring that and some pens. Pencils....You dump the basket of writing utensils into your bag.  
Good to go. You scratch one of the cats under the chin, before going to heckle the rats gently (they're so cute; if you let yourself, you'll get distracted, and then you'll _never_ leave!), before heading downstairs to lengthily tell the dog you love her and you love her and you _love her she's such a good dog who's your good girl?_  
That straightened, you finally leave, humming slightly. You feel a sense of _purpose_ , which is admittedly quite rare. You're enjoying it immensely.   
The walk is five minutes, maybe, from your house; you're thankful you didn't pack heavily, because you've already had to switch the shoulder your bag is on once, preemptively. You perk for the people going by, occasionally smiling and waving. They return (mostly confused) smiles of their own.   
The mountain.   
_  
Well, one good thing about it - it's got a lot of paths, and not a lot of people, at least not today. You decide against the main ones on a gut feeling.   
_  
You feel an aversion towards a certain direction the same way you feel a _tug_ from that same direction. Inquisitiveness pulls you forward.  
You leave the trail.  
_  
There's a cave. You don't know much about caves, besides that bats live in them and they echo  
and you shouldn't make any loud noises, because if there _are_ bats it will scare them into swarming, and that would be neither very nice to them nor very pleasant to you.   
It's not well illuminated; the cave itself blocks the sun from this angle, and, consequently, the light doesn't reach far beyond the mouth.  
You don't have a flashlight, and hell if you're going to stumble around in the dark. You have your phone, though.   
You aim the bright start-up screen into the darkness; already you could see huge stalactites hanging from the ceiling, even out near the mouth of the cave; they're wider than you would think they should be, but then, you don't _know_.   
You're only a little worried about one falling on you.  
There's grass leading up to the entrance; it stops short of the stone floor, though there seem to be.... _vines_..?..sprawled across it, leading to...something.   
Your veins are _buzzing_ , the pull in the pit of your stomach making your arms shake a bit in...excitement? Not fear, not _quite_ dread. Maybe excitement. You don't think arms shake in curiosity.   
This is where you're supposed to be. You're rarely so sure of _anything_ as you are of this, and you don't know where the supposition comes from, but you trust it.  
You step in. The white screen of your phone casts stark light, exaggerating features and dips in the floor, making the calcite overhead look like the teeth of some great predator, if very uneven. There don't seem to be many stalagmites.   
You venture slightly beyond the mouth of the cave; it occurs to you that it would be very easy to get _lost_ in such a place, were you not careful, which gives you slight pause.  
The pull is stronger. You won't go far. You just....  
...need to see.   
You pass an outcrop, careful to remember which way you came.  
Looks like you won't be needing your phone anymore for light. Here, anyway.  
  
The roof opens in the middle, spilling sunlight that reveals a dramatically large hole in the floor, taking up a good portion of the room. The lip of it is strangely uniform from what you can see, about three feet thick. Stocky stalactites hang from its underside. You can't see how far down it goes from here.  
-  
You get too close to the edge. Something is... _urging_ you forward, telling you it would be safe, of course it's safe, _don't you want to see what's there?_    
-  
You get too close to the edge. Your gaze is trained on where rock turns to nothing, then straining to see - your next step forward isn't conscious, and you only notice the one after it - the one that snags your foot on something (your gaze snaps down to see one of the vines you had noted snared around the top of your shoe) - and you realize with a hysterical start that you're _much_ closer to the hole than you intended to get, than you _remember_ getting - and there's no ground in front of you, not where you're falling, you try to twist yourself around - the vine snaps -  
you fall.


End file.
